


Lonely Conversations

by inks0up (krikkit_war_robot)



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-14 03:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkit_war_robot/pseuds/inks0up
Summary: Nothing at the studio was ever quite the same after Henry left. For instance, Sammy started having conversations with the Bendy cutouts. And perhaps he spent a little too much time talking to them. No wonder he went crazy.





	Lonely Conversations

The sound of the piano keys was wrong, all wrong. No matter how many times Sammy rewrote that phrase, nothing sounded right. It was frustrating work, writing these cartoon songs. After who knows how many attempts to come up with something decent, he finally gave up and scribbled the last phrase he’d tried onto the music sheet.

“It’s terrible. I know it’s terrible. I don’t care anymore.”

Of course, there was no one around to hear him. No one except the wooden Bendy cutout in the corner of the room.

“What do you mean ‘who am I talking to’? Who do you think I’m talking to? There’s no one else here except you.”

The inanimate object did not respond, but that didn’t deter Sammy from continuing his conversation with it.

“Yes, I know you aren’t real, but who else am I supposed to talk to?”

Perhaps he was a little desperate for company, or at least someone to vent to. His job could get rather isolating when he was writing songs with all the overtime Joey forced him to work these days. Working with the musicians and voice actors during rehearsals and recordings was no better; working with them was more frustrating than rewarding. He rarely had the opportunity to spend actual quality time with anyone these days.

“Henry quit months ago. I’ve told you that before.”

Henry was the one real friend Sammy had had here at the studio. Since he’d quit, Sammy hardly saw him anymore, given how little free time he had outside of work. He really did miss him, even if they normally only saw each other during breaks. Now the closest friend he had at work was a wooden cartoon cutout. Somehow, it managed to be a better companion than most of his coworkers who remained.

“Susie? No, she wouldn’t care. She barely knows me.”

To tell the truth, Sammy quite liked Susie. He’d had a crush on her for quite some time. She seemed to like him too, or at least looked up to him, but their relationship was strictly professional. Neither knew very much about the other on a personal level.

“No, I’m not talking to her. That’s ridiculous.”

From Sammy’s perspective, he was only worth as much as the songs he wrote. If Susie got to know him as a person, she’d surely be disappointed. It was better that he kept himself closed off from her.

Sammy didn’t pay much notice to the sound of footsteps from the hall until he heard the passerby say something under his breath:

“I’ve really got to have a word with Mr. Drew about that man.”

He looked to the source of the voice. Great, Norman had caught him in the middle of another one of his “conversations”. He got up and closed the door, then sat back down on the piano bench and faced the cutout.

“Yeah, I know I should’ve closed the door. I get it.”

He didn’t normally leave the door wide open like that, but it had slipped his mind this time.

“I said I get it. I’m getting tired of that attitude of yours.”

Despite sounding annoyed, the cutout’s imagined remarks did actually help to alleviate the stress of work. He really was getting desperate, wasn’t he?

“Anyway, I need to get this song finished. Joey says it has to be done by tomorrow.”

Due tomorrow, and only twenty-four measures in. God, he hated Joey’s deadlines. He never gave him nearly enough time to work.

“No, I don’t care if it’s good. I just need to get it done.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d lost his creative spark long ago, but he was still a perfectionist. He could get his work done much more quickly if he just stopped caring entirely, but, instead, he still had a tendency to spend hours working on and re-writing small sections of the music, until the frustration and the lack of any good inspiration became enough for him to finally give up and write whatever he had - or until the deadline got close enough that he was forced to rush.

“Yes, I used to enjoy writing music. It was the only thing I ever truly enjoyed. Leave it to Joey to ruin everything.”

Perhaps he would’ve felt the same way eventually if he’d worked elsewhere, but he doubted that. Joey was a strict, demanding, and uncompromising boss. Surely working for anyone else would be better than working for him.

“Why do you have to ask so many questions?”

Sammy didn’t hear the door open behind him.

“Oh, sure. To ‘keep me company’. As if I need that.”

Except he did. He’d reached such a low point that he was relying on a fake argument with an inanimate object just to get him through the day.

“If you’re going to keep talking, why don’t you say something useful for once?”

“Are you seriously _arguin’_ with it this time? Sammy, you’re great! Just wait ‘til the others hear about this!”

Sammy stopped silent and turned around to see who had spoken. There was Wally, standing in the doorway, with that dumb grin on his face. How long had he been standing there?

“Fuck off, Wally. Say a word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Wally walked off, laughing to himself over Sammy’s behavior as he walked away. Sammy got up and shut the door again, locking it this time.

He needed to get back to work. He sat back down at the piano and placed his hands on the keys, but he was interrupted by a voice which seemed to come from the cutout:

_“I bet everyone’s gonna love it when they hear how crazy you’ve been acting again!”_

That was it. That stupid cutout had gone too far.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can’t you just shut up and be quiet?!”

For the next few minutes, the room was silent, save for the noise from that awful machine upstairs. Then, Sammy realized what had just happened.

“Did you just… speak?”

No response. He figured it must just be the stress of work and lack of sleep getting to him.

“I really need a day off…”


End file.
